Of Hermione and Happiness
by ink teardrops
Summary: Ron Weasley has faced Death Eaters and ten foot spiders and somehow, he has managed to survive this and the girl with the books and all the answers is content to spend a lifetime in his arms —-Ron and Hermione spend a lazy Saturday morning in bed together


_**a/n**: a step in the opposite direction for me, but I love Romione more than words can express and this is just my crappy attempt to do their perfectness justice._

* * *

Ron Weasley has faced Death Eaters and ten foot spiders, a flock of dagger-like birds hurtling towards his arms and Horcruxes, for Merlin's sake; but nothing, absolutely nothing, fills his heart with terror like that look in his girlfriend's eyes.

That look that translates to "Ronald, you have done something so stupid that I shall now proceed to lecture you for half an hour about the correct way to look after your year old niece without resorting to bribery/shout at you to not put empty milk cartons back in the fridge/ignore you until you apologise for eating the last biscuit when you expressly knew I wanted it" (delete as applicable). That look that, in simple English terms, means "start apologising profusely for being an arse and remind her just how wonderful she is or stop what you're doing and either lie low for an hour or so", depending wholly upon the severity of the crime.

And today, the lovely, lazy Saturday mornings in bed with his gorgeous girlfriend that they have both become accustomed to over the last few months looks like it may be interrupted by said look.

"Ron!" Hermione says, her voice crackling with anger, as she enters their bedroom, awakening Ron from a rather pleasant dream that seemed to be comprised solely of flashbacks from the previous night, in which he and Hermione had returned from their respective jobs at the Ministry and had enjoyed a quiet night in by the fire, before, well. Well.

Ron's train of thought is disturbed by Hermione beginning to speak again and, as he gazes up at her, he wonders what on Earth he could have possibly done whilst asleep to anger her.

"Just because," she says, punctuating each word with a step towards him, "we share this space and live here together, does not give you the right to leave your dirty clothes lying around the flat. I'm tired of tripping over your pants on the way to the loo!"

Sighing in relief that his crime has not been to serious, Ron reaches out and captures the wrist of his unsuspecting girlfriend, bringing her closer to him.

"Come back to bed, love, and you can berate me all you want," he says, pulling her in so close that she collapses from her standing position to on top of him in their bed.

Emitting a giggle that two years ago, Ron would have thought was very un-Hermioneish but has since come to learn that with him, Hermione can do several things that he would never have expected Miss Hermione Granger, Head Girl to do; she gleefully plants a large kiss on his mouth, before rolling over onto her side of the bed.

"After last night," she says, "I would have thought you would become sick of this bed."

"If I recall correctly, last night, we didn't even make it to the bed in one instance," Ron replies, raising his eyebrows in such a way that causes Hermione to shriek and hit him with a pillow, "and, secondly, I could never get sick of anywhere that you were."

"You can be so lovely sometimes," Hermione teases, running her fingers along his exposed shoulders, which have become far more muscular of late.

"Sometimes?" he grins, leaning in to kiss her.

A few moments later they break apart and she leans back into his chest and he wraps an arm around her securely.

"I love you," she says, as she readjusts herself into her familiar position within his arms.

"I love you too," he replies.

They lie in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Ron absentmindedly playing with a lock of her hair and Hermione with her eyes closed, her fingers intertwined with his.

"The Prophet arrived, by the way," Hermione says suddenly, as the memory of the paper she'd been poring over whilst waiting for her boyfriend to awake re-enters her head, before she was distracted by his dirty clothes that seemed to cover fifty percent of the floor space in their living room. Although, admittedly, that may have just been a by-product of the shenanigans of the previous night.

"And?" Ron asks, now lazily tracing circles on the bare skin of Hermione's collarbones.

"I'm having an affair with Harry, apparently. I hate to break it to you," she says, sincerely.

"Wow, what do you see in the scrawny git?" he replies, and his easy-going tone of voice is an indicator of how much he has matured since leaving Hogwarts and the battleground behind. They both have had to grow up - a couple of years ago, an article like that would have reduced him to ignoring both Harry and Hermione but now, even though his jealousy has not been entirely eradicated, he trusts the love of the young witch in front of him above all.

"Apparently it's the status. And you know, the fact that he vanquished that bad guy a few years back, but I guess being 'Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor of the Year' is more important than that," Hermione shrugs, her mouth forming into a smile.

"Harry was completely embarrassed by that list, but Ginny reckoned it was hilarious. You know, she enlarged the article about why he was Number One and stuck it on the kitchen wall in Grimmauld Place with a Permanent Sticking Charm. Enchanted it so it kept repeating the phrase "his sparkling green eyes, brooding smile and lean stature have every witch in the land swooning" at top volume whenever he had guests over. Harry was mortified."

"What was it they described you as again? Oh yes, "emits an aura of power, but the charming, boyish smile still remains", my very own Second Most Eligible Bachelor in Britain."

"That is beside the point," he replies, blushing slightly, "because I am not a bachelor, my heart belongs to one Hermione Jean Granger and it is unlikely that I will ever get it back."

Hermione leans over and kisses him softly, "and mine to you, my charming, boyish, big, strong Auror man."

Ron returns the kiss and deepens it, his hand twisting in the curled hair he has come to associate with the love he holds for this wondrous woman. Hermione responds with equal amounts of passion, twisting around and running her hands along his shoulders.

"Ron," she breaks apart from him a few seconds later, panting lightly, "you do know that I would never have an affair with Harry really, don't you? Or with anyone else, for that matter."

Ron pauses for only a moment to take in the concern in Hermione's eyes, "of course I do, who in their right mind would choose that git over me?"

"That git meaning your best friend of nine years, naturally," Hermione laughs.

"That's the one," Ron laughs, "but, in all seriousness, of course I do. I trust you. Perhaps I didn't express it very well in our earlier days but I do trust you completely."

"As do I," Hermione repeats, turning back around and settling into his arms again.

Barely a second later, he opens his mouth and speaks her name hesitantly.

"Yes, Ron?" she replies.

"Speaking of affairs with Harry and bachelordom," he says.

"My favourite combination," Hermione says, smiling ruefully.

Ron swallows loudly, as though debating whether to speak the words on the tip of his tongue and Hermione is inexplicably reminded of the lanky fifteen year old, struggling to find the words to articulate this unspoken thing hanging in the air between them, before he would give up and make some comment about chess or the weather.

"I hope you know that… well, I would never even dream of having an affair or anything stupid like that… I don't think I could really be with anyone else because, you're it for me - the one, and all that soppy crap that those films you force me to watch go on about that is actually kind of true… it's just, you're the best thing and I love you a lot."

"I love you," Hermione punctuates each word with a kiss to his face, "more than anything, Ron Weasley."

"God," Ron sighs, "I feel so mature all of a sudden. When did this happen?"

"I know," Hermione teases, "you'll start balding soon."

"I bloody well hope not! Anyway, you'd love me even if I had no hair on my head at all. Admit it."

"I've already seen you bald once," Hermione points out, referring to a slight mishap Ron encountered at George's flat a fortnight ago, which involved his charming big brother "accidentally" spiking his Butterbeer with a prototype product that was supposed to allow the user to become intoxicated in a matter of seconds, but clearly did not have the desired effect.

George had grumbled that he'd wanted a re-enactment of the night of Percy's stag do, in which Harry and Ron had become so plastered they had tried to re-enact the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, involving Ron sticking his face into an transfigured goldfish bowl filled with some alcoholic beverage, pretending to be asleep and Harry spiritedly dragging him out resulting in, of course, their respective girlfriends coming to the rescue. The product, however, had clearly not quite worked and the night had resulted instead in George howling with laughter and taking photographs, before begrudgingly administering the antidote after Hermione had threatened to unleash her wrath unto him unless she left with a boyfriend that did not look like he was entering middle age prematurely.

"Bloody George," Ron shook his head, not being unable to stop a smile creeping onto his face as he thought of his elder brother.

"He seems… happier. I'm glad," Hermione said, softly.

"Yeah, Angelina's really good for him, I think," he says, thinking of how his brother's smile has been notably less forced as of late.

Their conversation lapses into comfortable silence and Ron can't help but think about how good Hermione is for him - the love of the witch in front of him has slowly helped to erode the bouts of jealousy and paranoia he had been prone to and the feeling of being second best because being with her is nowhere near to second best.

As Hermione snuggles further into his chest, he wonders what his eleven year old self would say if he could see them now. Somehow the girl with the books and all the answers, the girl with the heart of gold and the smile of sunshine has managed to become all he has ever wanted.

Ron Weasley has faced Death Eaters and ten foot spiders, a flock of dagger-like birds hurtling towards his arms and Horcruxes, for Merlin's sake; but somehow, by some absurd stroke of luck, he has managed to make it out of all of this and find the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the whole world content to spend a lifetime in his arms.

"Speaking of Angie, we need to be at the Burrow for our weekly lunch in an hour," Hermione interrupts his thoughts.

"There's plenty of things we could be doing in an hour, some of them more than once," he says, suggestively, earning him a rather suggestive smile.

"Yes, but do you remember what happened last time we were late? When your mum made Harry apparate here to see if we were okay and he walked in on us in a, well, a compromising position," Hermione says, sitting up and looking him in the eye, "I don't think he's ever looked at us the same way since."

"Well, the git should've made more noise. Remind me, why did we give him a key?"

Hermione laughs and Ron looks at her she gives him one of those looks that makes him know just how much she loves him. He can't quite believe how lucky and happy he is.

"We have time," Ron says, and she shrieks with giggles as he pulls her on top of him and kisses her. They have all the time in the world.


End file.
